100 Years
by WutevaChica
Summary: Based on the song 100 Years, by Five For Fighting, Ron experiences all of the different ages, in a dream, but will he like the outcome? And what goes on under the willow tree at night? [OneShot][SongFic]


A/N: Hello! I've had the thought of doing a songfic (does this count as a songfic?) to this song since I got it on iTunes (all hail iTunes) a couple of weeks ago. 100 years is a really good song by Five for Fighting, so if you haven't heard it yet, I strongly think you should, soon.

Disclaimer: I guess I might as well do one of these as well. I'm not JKR so I don't have rights to the characters anyway. But most importantly, I do not own '100 Years' by Five for Fighting. I own a _copy_ of the song (legally, mind you) but the lyrics you see, in _italics_ aren't mine. Thought you might like to know. Okay, here's the story.

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_I'm 15 for a moment_

_Caught in between 10 and 20 _

_And I'm just dreaming_

_Counting the ways to where you are._

Ronald Weasley sat in his room at an ungodly hour. He was pondering quietly, sitting upright in his bed, Harry's soft snores were emitting from the bed next to him.

It was summer and in about a week, he and Hermione and Harry would be going back to face their 5th year at Hogwarts. Hogwarts, exactly what he was thinking about. Well, not exactly, he was focusing on the Hermione part of Hogwarts. How would things change between them when he got back to school? After this summer when they'd made so much progress, how would that play out once they got to school, and more boys would notice how beautiful she had become over the years. He'd just have to muster up some of his Gryffindor courage and ask her out sooner or later. Before some other Krum wannabe did.

Hermione, so vexing and complex, often the root of his frustrations, was sleeping just a floor under him, in Ginny's room. Deciding that it would be much easier to sleep, than think about Hermione any longer, lay down into his comfortable sheets and let Harry's slow even breathes lull him to sleep.

_I'm 22 for a moment_

_She feels better than ever_

_And we're on fire_

_Making our way back from Mars._

Ron was apprehensive. He sat at the table where he and Hermione, his girlfriend of about three years, had been eating on their date. Hermione was currently in the restroom, and he was silently going over in his mind what exactly he was going to say to her, while rolling the box over in his fingers.

He heard Hermione's footsteps come closer and closer to the table; he hastily put the box on her empty desert plate. Hermione slid gracefully into her seat and looked at the small black box apprehensively.

"Ron, do you know where this box came from?" She asked, examining the box with keen interest and not even opening it to see.

"Open the box," he replied, laughing on the inside (and a little on the outside) at Hermione's ability to over-examine the most random things set in front of her.

She lifted the top and her mouth fell open slightly as she stared at the delicate diamond ring set in a white-gold band. It looked beautiful and stunning and… expensive.

"But it's so… how much… Is, is this for m-me?" spluttered Hermione, for once at a loss for words.

"It doesn't matter how much it cost, you're worth every single Galleon." He picked up the box and walked around the table to where Hermione was seated, all eyes in the restaurant on them. He kneeled down at Hermione's feet, on one knee, as her eyes started to well up in tears.

"Hermione Jane Granger, I've known you since we were kids and I always knew that you're the only person I've ever been able to see myself with for the rest of my life. I love you Hermione, will you marry me?"

She looked so happy when he said the last four words, it was all he could do to not pick her up and engulf her in a hug. Slowly, with tears pouring down her face, she nodded and smiled widely at her fiancée. "Yes," she whispered, but the whole restaurant heard anyway.

Ron grabbed kissed her short and sweetly on the lips then wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her around. Because right now, he was the happiest man on the Earth, Magical world or not. The woman of his dreams had accepted his hand in Marriage, how much better could life get?

He set her down and whispered "I love you," and if you listened closely over the sound of the applause from the crowd eating around them you could hear her reply, "I love you too."

_I'm 33 for a moment_

_Still the man but you see I'm a they_

_A kid on the way_

_A family on my mind._

Ronald Weasley was currently the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, as of yesterday. He hadn't had a chance to tell his wife yesterday, and he suspected that now would be the perfect time to do so, on a Saturday morning sitting in the bed, before his red haired daughters came into the room, begging for entrance into their large bed.

His wife of ten years (soon to be eleven) was sitting upright against the headboard reading a novel, looking serene and peaceful. Ronald sat up and kissed his wife good morning on her cheek and told her of his promotion, to the very distinguished position of, the Head.

She squirmed excitedly, while trying to stay silent as not to wake up the girls, who could be very exuberant in the mornings. She hugged him, and said, "well, I've got good news too."

"What? Is your new book being published soon?" he asked his wife, a well-known author.

"No, it's not about that. I'm… you're… we're, having another baby!"

"Really?" Hermione Weasley nodded, "another girl? Or a boy this time?"

"A boy is what the Healer said yesterday, I'm five months pregnant now."

Ron laid a hand on his wife's belly (which had enlarged quite a bit now that he thought about it) and rubbed it subconsciously. "We've got to tell the girls."

As if they knew that they were being talked about, two red haired girls one six and the other four years old, came running into the room. Layla the eldest, took a running start and launched herself onto the bed, and from her spot on her fathers lap, helped her younger sister Kate onto the bed, along with Kate's beloved teddy bear, Teddy.

Once they had settled onto the bed and smothered their mother and father with kisses and hugs (being the affectionate little girls that they were) Hermione spoke up.

"Mummy's got something important to say. We're going to have another person in the family, I'm having a baby." The two little girls hazel eyes widened, "Yes, a baby, it's going to be a boy. Kate you're going to be a big sister now."

Layla, who had already experienced the happiness in finding out that she'd become a big sister, scuttled across the bed to her mother and placed her ear on her mother's stomach, hoping to hear something.

Ron pulled his littlest (not for long) girl into his lap, and she giggled, loving the attention from her beloved daddy. "Daddy, can we name him Matthew?" she asked, whispering into his ear.

"I think we can," he replied, and she giggled again, and hugged her father tighter to her, loving him even more.

_I'm 45 for a moment_

_The sea is high_

_And I'm heading into a crisis_

_Chasing the years of my life._

Ronald Weasley had a good life. He had a loving wife, three beautiful children with hair like his, and faces like his wife, aged 18, 16, and 12. All three of them were Gryffindors at Hogwarts, (one ready to graduate soon) with his nieces and nephews. He had a great paying job, a nice house, and he was happy.

But lately, he felt as though he wasn't filling up to his potential. As though there was something else he needed to do, to accomplish before his time on this Earth was over. But he wasn't sure what.

His wife of 32 years, Hermione, tried to reassure him, by telling him, that it was just a midlife crisis and it would be over soon, but it didn't stop him from pursuing something, anything, to make himself happy. He needed a hobby, to keep his mind off of how he was slowly aging.

He sat in his office at the Ministry of Magic, and lounged back on his chair, thinking of ways to fill the void, the same empty void that told him that he was growing older every day.

He pulled out a sheet of parchment and one of the Muggle pens his wife sent him once, and began to tap on the page. He remembered how he used to doodle and draw when he was younger, and started to sketch the picture of his son Matthew, at his fifth birthday party, that sat on his desk.

Grateful that today was a slow day in the office, he sketched the picture diligently, until when he pulled back and stared at it, he saw a close replica of the picture of his son in front of him. He grinned, to himself thinking about how young he felt when he drew.

He pulled out another sheet of parchment and began,

**_Dear Matt, _ **

_**On the sheet enclosed is a picture I thought you might enjoy, see if you recognize it. I was thinking of you and how much you like to draw, and it seems I've remembered how much I used to like it too. There's a possibility that I might pick this up as a hobby, maybe when you get back, for Christmas, we might even have a small art studio in the house with easels and paints. **_

_**Stay on top of your studies, and don't go breaking any of those girls' hearts (too badly). Tell your sisters I send my love, **_

_**Dad.**_

_Half time goes by_

_Suddenly you're wise_

Ronald Weasley was fifty as was his wife. All of his children were grown up now; he had a grandchild on the way and would soon have another son-in-law. He and Hermione sat on their porch with Harry and Ginny, talking about the rate of their children's growth, and how well his paintings had been selling. He loved day's like this, when he could just sit and relax with people close to him, and not have to worry about the stack of papers that sat waiting for him at work.

He had it good, and he knew it, he thought, wishing that time could stop for a moment, so he could soak up the happiness in the air, and maybe he'd be able to let those feelings run loose in his next painting.

He reached out for his wife's hand and squeezed it feeling content, in the company of those around him.

_Another blink of an eye_

_67 is gone_

_The sun is getting high_

_We're moving on…_

Ronald Weasley lay in his bed, being snuggled by his wife of 44 years. She wrapped her arms around him, to keep warm.

"Honey, we're getting old," he said.

"Correction. Honey, _you're_ getting old. I don't have half as many grays as you do."

He chuckled, and said, "well, either way, we're definitely getting old, our babies are having babies, we're retired, we're old hon."

She laughed and said, "I can't think of anybody I'd rather grow old with."

"Me neither."

He kissed the top of her forehead, loving the way she smelled, and felt in his arms.

_I'm 99 for a moment_

_Dying for just another moment_

_And I'm just dreaming_

_Counting the ways to where you are._

Ronald Weasley lay in his empty bed. He was alone every morning when he woke up, and every night when he went to sleep, since he Hermione had died. He was sad about her passing, but wasn't going to fret over it, he knew it was a matter of time before he would go too, and he'd be with her again, how it was meant to be.

As he surveyed the room around him, filled with pictures of children in different stages of life, his wife, friends, brothers, and sister and grandchildren, and even little grandchildren, Ronald Weasley appreciated everything in his life. He had lived a happy and meaningful life, and now it was time to let go, and go on to the next place, wherever it was. And he'd be with Hermione, Harry, and his brothers and sister and parents again.

He was definitely going to miss being able to see and hold his grandchildren but he knew he was going to a better place, soon.

So, Ronald Weasley closed his eyes, and drifted off.

_15… there's still time for you_

_Time to buy and time to lose yourself_

_Within a morning star._

Ronald Weasley woke up, sitting straight upright in his bed, after his oddly vivid dream. It was so, weirdly correct, he felt as though the dream had been foretelling his future. He felt a strange feeling wash over him as he thought, _I was married, and had kids, and was happy, and I just died…Whoa…_

Deciding that his room wasn't the best place for thinking, Ron crept outside and sat under his favorite tree, a weeping willow, and looked at the stars.

_So is this all really going to happen? Maybe my dream was a premonition, and all of that was going to be me in the future. I was with Hermione the whole time wasn't I? Yeah, I was, so I must have been happy the whole time._

Again his thoughts wandered to Hermione Jane Granger. He was really going to have to step up to the plate if he was ever going to get that nagging feeling about her out of his head. But, then again, she was one of those people who no matter how hard you tried, you could never get off of your brain. But he loved her for that endearing quality, even if he wouldn't admit it in public.

He heard footsteps coming closer to him and looked around, to see Hermione walking towards him and his shadowy willow tree. Ron sat up cross-legged wondering how she could just appear like that, as though she knew he was thinking about her.

She sat down and crossed her legs like Ron had done and sat in front of him, their knees brushed as she sat down on the grass in her pajamas, and his ears turned red, but thankfully it was dark and she wouldn't be able to see much besides his profile.

"What are you doing up so late?" he asked, concerned.

"I could ask you the same thing too," she said, laughing a little.

"So you couldn't sleep either, could you?"

"Nope, I was restless." She paused and then continued, "Is it always this nice outside during the nights?"

"I don't really know, I don't lay out here often. But it is nice isn't it?"

"Mmm…" she murmured before laying flat on her back looking at the stars.

Ron followed her lead and placed his head beside hers, if he had moved over by about two inches, their ears would have been touching.

Neither said anything, but the silence wasn't awkward, it was pleasant. Finally, after a few minutes Ron was the one to break it.

"Hermione, do you think that you'd like to, when school starts back, go to Hogesmeade with me?"

"You mean like we usually do?" she asked, a slight laugh hidden in her voice.

"No… just, us. Not with Harry."

"Oh, sure Ron. That'd be nice."

Smiling inwardly (and outwardly) Ron mentally patted himself on the back, for finally mustering up the courage to ask her.

_15… there's still time for you_

_Time to buy and time to choose_

_Hey 15… there's never a wish better than this…_

Ron and Hermione came back to the willow tree every night after the first one, lying down and waiting for the other to join them, every night until it was time to go back to Hogwarts. Sometimes they talked until they were out of ideas; sometimes they just lay there with nothing to say, and just enjoyed the other's presence.

_Maybe,_ Ronald Weasley thought, _with the way things have been happening between us, that dream might come true. _

_It's always a possibility, Ron. _

_**When you only got 100 years to live.**_

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A/N: R/R people, I'd appreciate it.


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